


Oliver the Damned

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Oliver The ... [8]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, F/M, Plot Twists, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, twilight sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-01 11:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15772941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: The music was loud. Obnoxiously loud.He didn't know why she insisted on this place with its layer of chemical fog and its epileptic strobe lights. It was beneath her. A derelict den of neon-painted hedonism.But he came.He always came when she asked....





	Oliver the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:  
> Twilight sucks.  
> My vampires have a pulse, okay. It’s not regular and its skips, but they do. They also have sex. 
> 
> There is a vast array of different takes on the damned, who’s to say what take on this mythology is right or wrong.  
> Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.
> 
> Now...another little jaunt into a genre I swore never to write :/

  


_**For Bish. The only person who could make me write vampire porn.** _

  
The music was loud. Obnoxiously loud.  
He didn't know why she insisted on this place with its layer of chemical fog and its epileptic strobe lights. It was beneath her. A derelict den of neon-painted hedonism.

But he came.  
He always came when she asked.  
It had been like that since he’d met her six months ago; her blond hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, her azure eyes so youthful and her innocent pink lips turned up into a smile. Arrogantly he had thought he would could reel her in, dazzle her with a few tried and tested lines and have her underneath him begging for an orgasm and willing to offer herself to him and his carnal desires. What he’d _actually_ gotten was something quite different.

Hands stroked down his chest but he swatted them away without looking which pretty little thing they belonged to. He didn't want them; didn't need them. He was here for her. He was always here for her.

The smell of illicit fumes and alcohol filled his lungs as his eyes scanned through the haze of lights and writhing skin. Near-naked bodies drenched in their own sweat moved as if the music controlled them. Heaving chests and thrashing limbs en masse.

What didn't smell like alcohol gave off the scent of sex; it dripped off every scantily clad woman and pulsated from the groin of every red-blooded male. Some would indulge their needs in the bathroom with its sticky floors and cramped stalls, probably surprised when they catch something in the process. Others might stumble out into the alleyway and fuck against the graffiti-ridden walls. Either way, the smell of sex was so thick in the air that night, he could practically taste it as he ran his tongue over his smooth teeth.

He hated this place.  
But she asked.

For her own reasons, reasons that always seemed to escape him. _She asked._

So here he was, moving though the electric air with his hands brushing down the sides of his Italian suit. His tie hung a little loose around his neck and as he had entered the vapid dungeon of acid trips and sex, he had popped the top button of his ebony silk shirt. Florescent paint dripped off the walls as Oliver walked past a group huddled around five lines of cocaine.

The woman looked thin, collar bones jutting out from her shoulders and even in the limited pulses of light he could tell she had skin that rivalled the snow in whiteness though it had none of the fine softness that she had... _Felicity_.

Just saying her name to himself behind his molten lips made his cock as hard as stone behind the sheath of fine spun wool. She was perfect and he would readily admit that when it came to her, his drug, he was an addict.

He smacked his lips together and sighed wantonly, though the sound of it was lost beneath the thunderous music. His eyes searched desperately for her, an addict in search of their hit, but he came up with nothing but faces and bodies that weren't hers.

Stood with his hands sunk into his pockets he gritted his teeth at the back molars and felt the stampede of his blood coursing through his body, desperately eager for her. Just a taste.

Fingers, as soft as silk and as warm as the wick of a freshly expunged candle brushed down the side of his neck before a sharp nail sliced back up, so dangerously close to breaking the skin.

It was her.

He turned around and found her, dressed in red with her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders in soft, angelic waves that brushed against her perfect chest. Her eyes were framed with delicate strokes of coal liner and lashings of mascara, making her blue irises even more startling.

Her lips were softly pouted, open only at the centre and coloured a sinful, blood-red, the sight of which found Oliver's hand fisting in his pocket.

In this place she looked like the most stunning apparition he could have imagined, she certainly didn’t look like she belonged in this den of degenerates.

He hated this place  
But she was here.  
So, so was he.

He opened his mouth to say her name but she hushed him with her black tipped nail brushing against his lip before she left her hand on his cheek, floating it close to his mouth. He knew what she wanted

He took her wrist tightly in his grip, turning her milky complexion even whiter at the edges. He watched her carefully for approval and it came in the form of a soft smile that turned up the corners of her decadent lips. He twisted her a little so the pulsing veins of her wrist were a hair’s breadth away from his lips.

She let her tongue peak out from between her lips and slowly retract, glossing her already shiny pout.

He stooped, just a fraction but it was important – he came to her. He buried his nose into her skin and inhaled the scent of her; vanilla and cinnamon. _Fuck_ he loved that smell. His nose dragged across her flesh and dropped off at her palm.

As if to reward him, her nails lightly scratched his groomed beard. His eyes lapsed, heavy, as desire thumped every part of his body.

Her smile tempted him to continue the dance they had spent months perfecting and Oliver obliged when his lips folded around the inside of her wrist. His tongue pressed into her veins, letting the quick pulse of her massage his tongue before he began to gently suck on her wrist.

He watched her eyes float back as he tasted the remnants on her skin, letting them bleed onto his tongue in an eruption of pleasure. Her eyes were hooded and her smile tipped higher at one end as her tongue skirted along the edges of her teeth. He watched her chest rise and fall, deliriously slow, pushing tight against the confines of her bodice. It was tight and forced her succulent breasts to lift up as they threatened to come free of it.

Finally, he pulled her wrist away from his mouth and soothed the slight abrasion on her skin with his thumb before he tipped his head and gently lowered her hand to her side, _a gentleman_.

She smiled, soft and almost fragile, but he knew better. _Fragile_ she wasn't. The lights caught her eyes and they shone as she stepped back into the embrace of the crowd dancing around them. Bodies much larger than hers swarmed her and for a moment he found himself desperate to throw himself towards her. But he hadn't been invited. So his toes twisted in his shoes and his palms grew clammy with perspiration, but he didn't move from his spot.

She took the same wrist he'd kissed up to her lips with her eyes trailed on him. The strangers that gyrated to the thumping music were nothing but white noise to Oliver and his eyes focused so sharply on her that he saw every breath she took.

Then, with a coiled finger, she beckoned him closer and he fell towards her on stumbled steps without delay before she laced her fingers with his and walked him through the crowd.

Bodies passed either side of him like a sea of people. Aromas fought for attention he refused and faces became like blank canvases to him as they moved through them fluidly, never dropping their hands.

On the other side of the crowd she turned in a flurry of golden hair and he felt his chest tighten and his appetite for her soar.

“Do you want to?” she asked softly, her plump lips pressed close to his ear and her hand steady and small against his chest. Her voice was sweet and pleasant and he found his eyes lapsing into a euphoric state when she spoke.  
He nodded. The ability to speak not lost but the growl in his very core was threatening to escape so he kept his mouth closed to seal it in.  
She leaned on a door he'd hadn't even noticed was behind her and they stumbled out into a dark alleyway. The door swung closed behind them and the music from the club was instantly muffled behind a wall of steal and cinder blocks.

She lifted her body onto her toes and stole a chaste kiss from him before she fell away.  
“Do you want to?” she asked a second time.  
“Yes,” he growled as he studied the sweeping curve of her breasts as they rose up her chest with each breath she took.  
She smiled before she turned and led him down an alley that smelled like dry blood and fresh vomit.

He hated this place.  
But he loved her.

He caught himself as those words echoed through his head. He never could have imagined it – Love. It has been a foreign concept for so long. Lust, desire, wanting; those were things he once understood. Love was an ideology he didn’t share… _once_. But now, she was all he could think about, all he could dream about. He wanted her. Tonight; tonight would be theirs.

Her hips swayed as she walked and he let her walk a little ahead on him just to watch her move, float, on the black pumps with heels reminiscent of spikes. The skirt of her dress twisted and moved with the night’s breeze as he allowed himself scandalous moments to imagine the wispy fabric grazing through his teeth.

_His teeth._

A brief lapse in concentration found him still in the alley but with one tug from her he returned to the moment just as she walked through the side entrance and into a lobby.

It looked like it hailed from the Forties, during a time of wealth and opulence, with its brocade wallpaper and its tulip lights, to the checkerboard tiles across the floor.

His attention piqued as the fresh scent of wooden lacquer permeated the stairwell as they climbed it. He’d never been here before, in the entire six months they had been almost everywhere else, but she’d never brought him here; his angel in red. His demon in white.

They stopped outside a door with a brass ornamental _4_ sitting atop the oak marbling. The door unlocked with a click as Felicity rattled the keys in her small hand, but before it opened to them, she turned and rested her back against the door, looking up his strapping chest and into his eyes.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice faint, almost angelic and the sound of it made him want to steal her lips with his own.  
“Yes,” he answered. His voice was husky and the simple word was framed with a groan either side.  
She walked two fingers up his chest and over the fine, satin-trimmed lapel of his jacket. “Will you have me Oliver?” she hummed.  
The question made his cock quiver and the way she blinked so innocently at the end made his erection intensify.  
“Please,” he growled as his molars ground against each other in heated anticipation.

She opened the door and he followed her in, kicking it closed behind them. His eyes were so raptured with the pale blue of hers that it was only when she turned around that he took her _sanctum_ , her apartment, in.

Three lamps lit up the room and his eyes roved around it, surprised by what he saw. A poster of Robin Hood hung over a simple television, the settee was a warm beige colour and decorated in pillows that were vibrant pops of colour; teal and fuschia. A luxuriant rug with thick, long strands of faux fur covered the polished floors and everything sat in place, tidy and organised.

“Were you expecting something else?” she chuckled as she walked him into the centre of the room and onto the rug that had caught his eye.  
“Maybe,” he smiled, “but you like to surprise me.”  
She toed off her shoes and kicked them to the side before she shrunk even smaller next to him. Her delicate chin tipped up to catch his eyes as they fell to hers while she raised herself onto the balls of her feet and steadied her palm against his clothed chest.

“Tonight it’s about you,” she whispered in his ear before she caught the lobe between her teeth and bit down just hard enough for him to growl out a keening moan. “I’ll be your vessel,” as she spoke she unzipped her dress at the side, “and then you’ll be mine.”

She stepped back and let her dress pool around her feet. She was naked and her ivory thighs glistened with arousal as her nether lips looked delectable enough to eat.

Hungrily his eyes drunk her in as his tongue and teeth teased his lips. She guided him to the couch and he followed without question. The crack of his belt shifted the silence in the air before she lowered his finely-tailored pants to his mid-thighs, his briefs soon following. Her fingertips teased the eye of his cock in tiny circles until he hissed under his breath and she lowered him onto the couch.

As she stood above him with her legs spread hip-width apart, he sliced his finger through her drenched folds and brushed it up over her swollen clit. Her lips fell open and a gasp escaped from between them as he continued to excite her heat. With her arousal painting his digit, he pulled it away and fed it through his puckered lips. An impish smile turned up the edges of his mouth as his tongue swept over the creases of his finger, making sure not to waist a drop of her.

“I want to taste all of you,” he moaned as he patted his lips together and his shadowed eyes devoured her.  
Her cheeks filled with a smile. “Soon,” she promised as she lowered her naked body onto his lap.

Her wet folds skimmed his hard shaft, slicking it with her arousal as his own pooled in the slit of his cock. She massaged the base with her slender fingers and her other palm curved over his heart. She felt it thumping, mimicking the panted breaths that stumbled from his open mouth. It spoke to her in its own thundering language and she could feel her own breath quicken and she slid him into her wet and waiting entrance, not stilling until he was completely buried inside her.

His hands slunk down her back and settled on the rounds of her ass, moulding the plump and pliable mounds into his fingers as she began to bounce above him.

Her adept fingers sped down the first few buttons of his shirt until it fell open enough for her cool palm to slid under the silken fabric. She pressed her hand into his chest, listening to his stampeding heartbeat as her thrusts fucked him in time with it.

Lewd, wet sounds mixed with lascivious breaths filled the air as she continued to lift off him with her body clenched around his cock only to slam back down seconds later, grinding her ass into his thighs. She watched the pleasure leak from his expression as his eyes tumbled towards the ceiling and sweat beaded across his brow. She forced his head back down as her nails dug into his chin. Her body throbbed with him as a devilish glint flashed in his eyes and he lunged forward to bite the cusp of her breast before he soothed the same with his tongue.

With his body so close to orgasm, his tongue flustered with his lips and his eyes begged her for his release. “Now, it’s your turn,” he shuddered as his balls tightened beneath her.  
She covered his throat with rapid and haphazard kisses that scampered around to the base of his neck where the fine cords of his throat blended into taut muscles, glossed in sweat.  
“Are you sure Oliver?” she rasped, her voice thin and breathless.  
“Yes,” he stammered in reply as he kissed the underside of her neck.  
She kissed slowly towards his jaw with her lips trembling against his flesh as his scent filled her nose. “Are you sure?”  
He tasted her neck with his tongue, salty and smooth. “Yes.”  
His breath misted her skin as she dragged her lips down to his thumping pulse point, which radiated with _him_.  
“Are you sure?” he asked her as his lips folded into the small peak of her shoulder.  
“Yes,” she whispered before she opened her mouth wide and bit down on his neck, hard. Her fangs punctured his skin and in that instant Oliver was engulfed in an intense pain that found his body frozen solid. His blood felt like an inferno coursing through his veins as sweat poured from his catatonic body while she feasted on him as his orgasm came in silence, shooting ribbons deep inside her.

He was hers.  
His grip bruised her breast as life all but drained from him and her tears soaked into his neck.

_He was hers eternally._

When his hand fell away from her, limp to his side, Felicity stepped off him and carefully fixed his skewered shirt. As streams of black tears cascaded down her pale cheeks she gently pulled his pants up over his soft cock before she wrapped a throw blanket around her body.

She licked his blood from her lips and settled herself next to him, cuddled against his barely breathing husk. Seconds pass into minutes as her tears soaked through his shirt.

Until finally he gasped and his eyes flung open.  
He was alive. More alive now than he had been when he was living.

She looked up at him, her lips still stained red by his blood. He leaned down and kissed her roughly, tasting what was once him from her lips.

"Happy birthday," she whispered against his chest.

He was alive.  
_As much as the Damned ever could be._

 

**|the end|**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't @ me about Twilight k?! 
> 
> Twitter/Tumblr @Someonesaidcake


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